


Limerence

by CalumSmiles (dreamforlife)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/CalumSmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking advantage of the distraction, Luke rolls out from underneath Calum, sprinting around the couch and clinging to Ashton’s back. “Save me,” he whispers, “he’s going to cut off my dick.”</p><p>“You bet,” pushing off the ground, the brunet stands up, gesturing at his soaked jeans and glistening chest, “My last fucking pair of jeans, dickface.”</p><p>“Don’t cut off his dick,” Michael calls, waving a hand, “I need that.”</p><p>Luke sends him a flat look even as his stomach twists at the gleam in Michael’s eyes. Honestly. He needs to get a grip.</p><p>Ashton’s shoulders shake under Luke’s hands and he straightens, swinging forward to get a look at his face and grins when he finds Ashton laughing. Calum’s face darkens further and further as Ashton’s giggles break through. </p><p>“I fucking hate you all,” he hisses, punching his finger in their direction and spinning around to do the same to a a still-laughing Michael, “I’ll getcha, I’ll fuckin’ get you all.” </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p>Luke and Michael have a friend-with-benefits thing going on, it's fine, it's good, it's mutual. Small problem, though. Very tiny. Luke is sort of maybe in love with Michael. Like, sort of a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limerence

**Author's Note:**

> HI XD
> 
> So, here's another one. It's probably very disjointed and feels like a mash-up of random scenes but hey, it's Muke and we love them ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!

Luke wakes up feeling weird. It’s not something he can put a name to, really, it’s just more an unsettled, itchy kind of feeling that he can feel in his chest and in his head. He lies on his back, stares at the sun slanting across the white expanse of the ceiling and wonders if anyone else is awake.

It feels horrendously early, still silent and quiet outside in LA, and he rubs a hand down his face, throwing blame at jetlag and for spending too much time in Sydney because now he’s running on Aussie time and that’s a cursed way to live when you’re halfway across the damn world.

He flops onto his side, reaching under his pillow for his phone. “ _Why.”_ He mutters in frustration when his phone reads 5:47 a.m.

A message from Michael USA pops up on his screen and an involuntary smile draws Luke’s mouth upward.

Michael: _Wake up_

Luke tucks his other hand under his arm and texts with one hand, the smile pulling up higher.

Luke: _Just woke up. Fuck jetlag._

He stares, a little impatiently, at the three shifting dots in the bubble as Michael types.

Michael: _Why aren’t u here?_

Luke: _Why aren’t U here?_

Michael: _:(_

Luke snorts. Michael is always extra clingy and cuddly when jetlagged and given the fact that they hadn’t hung out too much during the break because Michael had become a gaming hermit, Luke felt the same. But hell, that didn’t mean he was getting out of his warm, comfortable bed.

Luke: _M not getting out of bed_

Michael: _:(_

Michael: _Fine. Ur an ass. I hate u._

Luke: _Come here :-) I promise cuddles and breakfast :P_

Michael: _._._

Michael: _-___-_

Michael: _Ur still an ass. Move the fuck over, Hemmings._

Chuckling, Luke waits for Michael to come through the connecting door between their rooms. Yes. That is how lazy he feels. He can’t be bothered to walk ten steps to the next room. Hashtag jetlag.

Michael finally pops open the door, dressed in basketball shorts and no shirt, and shuffles in as he messes with the dark mop of his hair.

“Hey,” Luke says with a grin. His voice is deeper, a little hoarse and rough from sleep.

He gets a half-hearted glare in return and no warning before Michael dives into the open corner of the covers, shoving himself into Luke’s space, throwing the sheets over him and hiding his face as he tucks it into Luke’s shoulder.

Luke bites at the empty space where his lip ring normally is, folding his arm over Michael and tangling their bare legs together. “Morning.”

Something that sounds vaguely like a greeting is muffled against his neck, Michael’s breath warm.

“What, no kiss for me?” Luke teases, poking Michael’s side. He spasms and almost knees Luke in the groin.

“Fuck off,” Michael whines, wriggling, “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Michael lifts his head up long enough to raise an eyebrow before dropping back down. “If you want me to kiss you, you need to brush your teeth first. I know your morning breath, dude, and it is not something to be taken lightly.”

Luke rolls his eyes.

“But this I can help with.”

It’s low, playful, and he doesn’t think anything of it. That is, until he jumps out of his skin when Michael ghosts his fingers over his crotch and he knows he should’ve known better.

“What the— _Michael.”_ He groans, hiding his face in his hand, cheeks heating. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Michael laughs, his breath warm on Luke’s jaw. Luke can feel the heat from Michael’s hand as it rests above the waistband of his boxers and it’s really, _very_ unsettling. “Mmmmhmmm. It’s a normal reaction, Luke.”

“Michael,” He says again, voice pitching higher as Michael’s fingers slip along the elastic, rubbing circles into his sleep-warm skin. Oh this is a bad, _bad_ plan. He’s getting harder with this stupid foreplay. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael almost purrs into Luke’s ear, “I think your dick disagrees with you.”

Luke has to stifle a choking sound when Michael actually rests his hand right over the hard length of him. His left hand twists into the sheets beside him as he bucks up into the touch and his right hand squeezes Michael’s hip.

“Stop,” Luke whispers, “Seriously, Calum’s in the next room. He’ll kill us both. You know I can’t be quiet. This is one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had.”

Michael sits up, leaning on his elbow, and tightens his fingers and Luke almost sees stars. As it fades, he glares at the smirk on Michael’s face.

“I could gag you,” he whispers, leaning down, hovering above Luke’s face, “Think you’ll have to be quiet then.”

Luke scoffs. “I’ll actually kill you if you try to gag me, Clifford.”

“I’m the one with my hand on your dick, _Hemmo_ , be nice to me.” Michael strokes him through the fabric and Luke has to grit his teeth hard. “Now, I can do this all day,” he brushes his lips along Luke’s jaw and he arches his neck out of habit, eyes falling shut, moaning as Michael presses a biting kiss under his jaw, “or I can suck you off. What’ll it be?”

Luke just closes the gap between their mouths, pulling on Michael’s lower lip with his teeth and sucking it into his mouth because he has no self control when it comes to Michael. He grins when Michael’s arms buckle and he drops onto Luke, the weight welcome and sorely missed over the past weeks.

“I hate you,” Michael moans, small breathless pants puffing over Luke’s mouth when he pulls back, his hand tucked under the back of Michael’s shorts.

He smiles, using his grip to push Michael down as he rocks up, and kisses him again. “Tell me that when you’re fucking me.”

Another pained groan tumbles out of Michael, muffled against Luke’s neck. Luke bites his ear in retaliation.

“Hurry up, I want that blow job.”

 

*

 

Ashton looks up as Luke hops into the car a few hours later and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” When the eyebrow just rises higher, Luke pats himself down self-consciously. _“What?”_

The eldest snorts, shakes his head and pats the seat beside him. “So much shit,” he mumbles as if it’s the tail end of a thought, “I can’t believe this.”

Luke pokes him in the cheek. “Ashton.”

“Michael went to town on you last night, bro,” The drummer says, voice dry. “You have the entire world map bitten into your neck.”

Luke grins, putting a hand up to his throat, fingers pressing into the mouth shaped bruises and rolling his shoulders as sparks shoot down his spine. Ashton rolls his eyes at him.

“Last night?” Calum scoffs as he scrambles into the seat opposite them with Michael on his heels, “I think you mean at arse o’ clock this morning when _some_ people were trying to sleep.”

Ashton chuckles. “Arse o’ clock.”

“Oh my god.” Calum covers his eyes and sighs.

Luke gets distracted as Michael rubs his mouth, spotting the dark mark he’d sucked into Michael’s collarbone just below the neck of his shirt like a shadow. He squirms in his seat.

Michael catches his eyes and winks. “You look hot.”

With a roll of his eyes, Luke pulls on his sunglasses. “I always look hot.”

 

*

 

“ _You posted it on Snapchat?”_ Luke hears as he approaches the dressing room later, Michael’s voice muffled through the door but annoyed nonetheless.

He opens the door to find Calum lying shirtless on the couch with one of Ashton’s fedoras tipped over his face and a smirk pulling at his mouth. Arms folded behind his head, Calum looks every inch the pretentious hipster model he pretends to be for Ashton’s bursts of indie photography. Luke snaps a discreet picture because really, it’s a moment to be documented and used for future blackmail when Calum swears he’s never been a hipster in his life.

“I had no choice. It was a moment to be shared.”

Michael’s standing by the dressing tables, backlit from the dozens of incandescent lights on the mirrors like an avenging angel, clutching his phone in his hand and glaring at the bassist.

“Are you kidding me? _Shared?_ Are you fucking stupid, Calum, it’s pretty fucking obvious that Luke has hickeys all over him! Twitter’s losing it!”

Luke stops in his tracks, the bottle of Powerade he picked up abandoned in his hands. “You put that on _Snapchat?”_

Calum hums, eyes still hidden underneath the hat. “You needed to be called out on your ego.”

He cracks open the bottle and walks calmly over to the couch, making a slicing motion at Michael when he snorts, and upends the Powerade over Calum’s body, soaking his skin and skinny jeans in sticky blue liquid.

He’s biting back laughter as Calum spasms up, limbs flailing all over the place as the drink goes flying all over the couch and carpets, spluttering and hollering and cursing at the top of his voice. Michael’s chortling laughter bounces off the walls and echoes in Luke’s ears as Calum launches himself at Luke, wrestling him to the ground, the empty Powerade bottle rolling out of his hand as they hit the floor.

They tussle, Luke laughing as Calum drips over him, cursing everything Luke owns and loves, and they roll over and over until he’s pinned to the floor, Calum’s hand curled around the base of his throat, thumbs pressed to this collarbones.

“I’m gonna fucking end you—”

Michael’s still laughing and is of no use at all to him so when Ashton walks in the door, humming Slipknot _,_ Luke jumps at the opportunity.

“ _Ashton!”_ He screams, thrashing.

Calum startles, his grip slackening as his head snaps up to glare at the exasperated boy standing behind the couch.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Luke rolls out from underneath Calum, sprinting around the couch and clinging to Ashton’s back. “Save me,” he whispers, “he’s going to cut off my dick.”

“You bet,” pushing off the ground, the brunet stands up, gesturing at his soaked jeans and glistening chest, “My last fucking pair of jeans, dickface.”

“Don’t cut off his dick,” Michael calls, waving a hand, “I need that.”

Luke sends him a flat look even as his stomach twists at the gleam in Michael’s eyes. Honestly. He needs to get a grip.

Ashton’s shoulders shake under Luke’s hands and he straightens, swinging forward to get a look at his face and grins when he finds Ashton laughing. Calum’s face darkens further and further as Ashton’s giggles break through.

“I fucking hate you all,” he hisses, punching his finger in their direction and spinning around to do the same to a still-laughing Michael, “I’ll getcha, I’ll fuckin’ get you all.”

Calum ends up having to go on stage in basketball shorts because they’re all on their last pairs of jeans at this point in the tour, after forty-odd shows. He’s on edge the whole time, biting at them, turning his wide puppy brown eyes on the crowd and somehow wringing every drop of sympathy humanly possible from them as he nothing short of _croons_ his solos.

Luke would be amazed if that didn’t mean that Michael’s teasing turned on him.

Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind Michael’s gentle bullying, the _shut up Luke_ ’s and the _Luke sucks balls,_ it’s just that sometimes, he wants to know if this whole thing is building up to something.

Also, it’s kind of ridiculously hot when Michael’s eyes burn under the stage lights as he turns to his left, the way his lips curl into a biting grin as he says something sarcastic, and Luke is often glad of the guitar sitting in front of his crotch in these situations.

God, he’s so outrageously in love with Michael, he thinks it should be tattooed on his forehead, but Luke knows that it’s just as clear in his eyes when he looks at Michael. Calum and Ashton haven’t wasted any opportunity to tell him so.

They also haven’t wasted any chances to tell him get his shit together and confess his _eternal undying love—_ in Calum’s words—to Michael, to stop _bullshitting yourselves with this friends with benefits thing and fuck already, you know what I mean_ —again in Calum’s words.

Luke would, _really_ he would, but well. You know.

“I’m sorry if I smell bad,” he says to the crowd, fiddling with his in-ear, just for the sake of conversation and also yes, he smells awful at this point.

Michael shocks him to the core tonight, his heart hammering hopelessly as he stares at the boy on his right, hanging onto his microphone like a lifeline.

“Hey wait,” Michael yells out at the crowd, turning towards him with bright eyes and a smile so wide that Luke melts like butter in a microwave. “Who here thinks Luke Hemmings looks like an angel?”

“I disagree with that,” he says absently, eyes glued to Michael as his whole body seems to vibrate with his heartbeat. He wonders if they can hear it, the ground-shaking thuds of his heart against his ribs, it’s that strong. “I’m so sweaty.”

“You look like a sweaty, sweaty angel from here,” Michael says, grinning and his mouth twists wider, “Or maybe an octopus.”

And a snort tumbles out of him, amplified through the stadium as he shakes his head, turning back to the audience with a heavy feeling in his chest and smothered smile on his face. “Thanks, Michael. _Alright,_ who’s ready for this next song?!”

 

*

 

Needless to say, Michael drags Luke away after the show that night with his handprint searing into Luke’s arm and Luke, despite his best efforts, can’t say no to the wildfire burning in Michael’s eyes.

Ashton teases him when he can’t walk in a straight line on the way back to the bus, tottering around and smiling too much because his brain’s been sucked out through his dick.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Ashton says to Calum with a cheerful smile.

Calum scowls hard and storms up the stairs into their bus. It really doesn’t seem to be Calum’s night.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Ashton pats Luke’s shoulder, “Nothing, bro. Get some sleep.”

Michael snorts and tugs Luke inside.

 

*

 

Three months later, after the tour ends, they’re back in LA. Calum and Ashton had gone out that morning with promises to return later in the evening with food. Michael and Luke had taken full advantage of the empty house.

“I’m gonna buy a house.”

Luke looks up as Michael waltzes into the kitchen of the house they had rented, dressed in nothing black boxers, and blushes as his eyes trail along the necklace of red-turning-purple marks on Michael’s chest, running down to the very prominent one on his hipbone.

They’d had sex less than half an hour ago and Luke, as usual, is hungry and came down to find something to eat, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head telling him to spill his guts given the rare chance of being undisturbed.

This is unexpected, to him in the least. Michael’s never said anything about houses before let alone his intentions to buy any house.

“What?” Luke asks, spreading butter over a slice of bread.

Michael drops down onto a barstool at the counter and steeples his fingers under his chin, studying Luke.

“I’m gonna buy a house.”

“You…want to _buy_ …a house?” He repeats, looking up with furrowed eyebrows.

Michael rolls his eyes, dropping his hands onto the countertop. “The thing made of bricks and plaster that people tend to live in?”

He tears off a crust and throws it at his stupid friend. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

“Luckily for you, I’ve gotten good at understanding the shit that comes out of your mouth,” Michael sighs, playfully long-suffering, “I’ve adapted.”

“Hey, buttface, keep insulting me and I won’t ever suck your dick again,” Luke says without looking up from the toast he was now spreading vegemite over. “Tell me about this hypothetical house you want to buy.”

He feels very accomplished because he sounds as unimpressed as Oliver from _How to get away with Murder_ and it’s very satisfying. Although, he’s ninety nine per cent sure he’s joking because hell, he _wants_ to sucks Michael’s dick.

“Nothing hypothetical about it,” he bites impishly, but his voice levels out, “I’m gonna buy it here, Luke.”

 _That_ stops Luke in his tracks, the suddenly low tone and the definite ring to the words that come from Michael, and he leaves the knife on the plate as he swallows, looking up.

“Here?”

Michael is staring at the granite, fingers splayed over the smooth surface. “Here.”

“Oh. Um. That’s,” he says lamely, uncertain now where he stands, “Have you told your parents?”

“Yeah, they…they’re fine with it, I—” When Michael looks up, Luke holds his breath. “Are you—”

“I’m cool,” he says immediately, forcing a smile, “it’ll be cool to have your own place, won’t it? Is it, uh, is it gonna be home or are you still gonna go back, uh, home?”

Luke is terrified of the answer, staring hard at the anchor tattoo on Michael’s hand.

“Would it be completely awful if I said here?” There’s hesitancy shaking in his voice and Michael shred the piece of crust on the counter to crumbs. “I just, I’ve always wanted—”

“I know,” Luke says quietly, his mouth twitching in a half-hearted smile, “It’s okay, Mike.”

“So, I had a point to all this before you made me feel all guilty,” Michael says with a small chuckle, shrugging off the heavy atmosphere like he’s always done with a flick of his eyebrow and a flash of his teeth, “Help me choose the inside.”

“You want me to help you choose what your house is going to look like?”

“Get your butt over here,” Michael bites out, pulling out his phone out of god knows where, “Come have a look.”

Luke, disbelieving and pleased, makes his way around the island and hops up onto the counter besides Michael’s arms, leaning down to peer at his phone.

“Where did you even get these, Pinterest?”

“Oh my god, you did not just insult me like that,” Michael taps a photo, making a scoffing noise as he swipes over to the next one which is a broad, too-white expanse of open-plan, modern living room.

“No,” Luke says, “Hell no, white couches are you serious? You’ll have destroyed them within a week.”

Michael huffs, shooting him an offended look as he swipes through the photos.

“No.”

_Swipe._

“No.”

“Are you an eighty seven year old grandma?”

_Swipe._

“That’s…not too bad.”

“Thank god, I was beginning to wonder if you knew words besides no.”

_Swipe._

“That’s not awful either.”

“Where are the party poppers, I need to celebrate.”

_Swipe._

“That one. Definitely that one.”

Michael looks up at him, from the picture on the phone to his face twice in over-exaggerated shock. “Who knew you had taste.”

“Who knew _you_ had taste, fuck off,” Luke mutters even as he wiped a smile into his hand. “We’ll have to get rid of those awful carpets though,” he adds, looking down at the picture again, “That is not conducive to creativity or your sex drive.”

He’s so fixated by the truly horrendous carpet that he doesn’t realise that the atmosphere had changed, dipped into something that makes Luke’s skin crawl when he finally looks up.

They stare at each other for a long moment, not uncomfortable but fixed and unwavering.

“We’ll have to get rid of it,” Michael says absently, not breaking eye contact.

Luke’s heart hammers when he gets up off the barstool and comes to a stop in front of Luke, inches from standing in between the spread of his legs. He watches the bob of Michael’s throat as he swallows, taking the two steps forward until he’s right there between his legs, his hips sliding against the inside of Luke’s thighs.

There’s not a sound around them but Luke, despite his best intentions, can’t help it and his hand drifts to Michael’s hip, fingers curling around the bare skin. Michael looks down at his phone again.

“Do you, uh, do you have any ideas,” he says, “for what your room is gonna be like?”

Luke’s heart lurches and he almost feels dizzy at the almost _hopeful_ edge to Michael’s voice as his eyes go wide. Michael looks up, his face open and raw like Luke could see everything in him and tear him apart.

“My what?”

“Your room, genius,” Michael says again, sounding almost like he’s going a little mad.

“You want me to livewith you?”

Michael clears his throat and when he speaks, it’s clearer than the thick tone from before. “But, I’m not gonna lie, I just thought that if you did live with me—”

“I do? Mostly?”

“Shut up and listen,” Michael says with a snort and his hand comes up to squeeze Luke’s bare thigh. His voice goes soft.  “I just—you wouldn’t need your own room?”

Luke balks, his breath caught high in his throat in a near inhuman noise. His brain seems to shut down as his hand tightens around Michael’s hip, inescapable as he stares, _gapes,_ at Michael. There’s an unmistakable glimmer of hope etched into Michael’s face, into the light flush in his cheeks and the deep green of his eyes, and Luke bites back the words that spill onto his tongue, biting hard and quick into his bottom lip.

Michael’s eyes drift down, linger on his mouth too long and Luke snaps.

“Michael, fuck, please,” he blurts out, “What the fuck are you saying?”

There’s a sudden flash in his eyes and he bring his hand up to the hand Luke has fisted on Michael’s chest, curling around it. Luke looks down, surprised, his hand having found it’s own way to Michael’s chest of its own accord.

“I’m saying,” he says, slowly, firmly, as he brings his gaze back to settle on Luke, “that if you’d want to live in my house I’d really want you to sleep in my bed. And well, if you don’t have any objections, I’d really fucking like to date you and make out everywhere to annoy Calum and Ashton, and meet your family again as your boyfriend, and _fuck,_ Luke, if you don’t have any righteous objections right now, I’d really fucking like to kiss you.”

Luke isn’t sure he’s breathing right. Or at all. Michael’s panting, looking like he’s been torn open and laid bare, eyes a little wild and fingers hot on Luke’s skin.

“We literally had sex an hour ago,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he tries to make sense of Michael, “We—you kissed me already—holy shit.”

Michael kind of looks like he wants to hit him over the head with a Wii controller as Luke reaches up and slides a hand around his neck, leaning into the touch.

“You like me.”

“I’m in love with you, you moron,” Michael breathes out heavily.

Luke is completely and utterly floored.

He’s not sure which one of them moves first but it’s mutual, synchronised because shit, they’ve kissed a hundred times and more. But, despite the practice in heated moments locked away in bathrooms and around deserted corners at venues, the kiss when it comes isn’t pretty, too biting and desperate without any of the slow progression to make it _nice._ Luke opens up to Michael, instinctually, gripping his back and nails digging into his nail, sparking pitfires bursting behind his eyelids as he screws them shut too hard like misguided fireworks in the expanse of blackness as he licks into Michael’s mouth like he’s trying to crawl inside, make himself a space right there Michael’s life with his teeth and tongue.

There are teeth biting into his lip, sharp and bright, and something unlocks in Luke’s chest, brutal and intense, and he pulls Michael to him as he slides to the edge of the counter, wrapping his legs around his hips and pressing into to him. Michael’s hand slide down from his neck, heat scorching into him in shocks down his spine as Michael presses his hands to the sweat-cooled skin of his back.  

Luke can hear pants and moans, sounding pained and wheezing as they echo around them but god, _god,_ it’s completely the opposite, he can feel the relief coiling in his bones, the earth-shattering pulse of his heart against Michael’s because, thank the fucking gods, it’s mutual, it was all—

He uses his grip in Michael’s hair to yank him back, breathing hard as he shoves their foreheads together, a grin working his way across his face, blinding as Michael squeezes his waist.

“I love you,” he blurts out, hands sliding across to Michael’s jaw, thumbs working over the tense hinge, “I fucking love you too. I didn’t—I want it all, I want you to take me on dates and annoy the boys, I want to live with you, you gigantic shit, _I love you.”_

Luke here’s the hitch in Michael’s breath and grins wider, opening his eyes to catch the bright, glowing green eyes in front of him.

Michael’s grinning just as hard, eyes crinkled and lips red and swollen as he starts laughing, delirious and giddy.

“We’ve been fucking around for months,” he splutters, his forehead dropping to Luke’s shoulder, “I can’t fucking believe—”

Luke chuckles, tugging Michael’s hair and making him look back at him. He leans forward and presses a kiss to his mouth, quick and soft.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I think you’ll find that _you’re_ the idiot.”

Michael rolls his eyes, leaning forward and biting the hinge of Luke’s jaw. “Shut up, Luke.”

 

*

 

Almost a year and half later, they’re all at Michael and Luke’s house, outside on the back porch with a fire in the middle of their circle.

“I wanna get plastered tonight, lads.” Calum swigs his beer as if to make a statement and the rest of them splutter into their drinks as he swallows the wrong way and chokes, beer coming out of his nose.

There’s something beautiful about the way Michael’s eyes glitter as he turns his head towards the fire with a snorting laugh and Luke squeezes his legs closer to his chest, resting his chin on his knees as he admires his boyfriend’s figure.

The wood crackles and spits as the flames devour them.

“Think Luke’s halfway there.”

His head snaps up and he shrugs at being caught staring. “Fuck off.”

Calum’s pained face twists into a smirk and Luke knows that he’s about to get dragged through the metaphorical dirt. He relents.

“ _Look at my boyfriend like, oh my god, isn’t he gorgeous?”_ Calum starts, high-pitched in an absolutely _appalling_ recreation of the Valley girl accent.  _“I could stare at him for hours, like, he’s like the fucking Mona Lisa, am I right Ashton?”_

Michael purses his lips like he does when he’s trying not to laugh and Luke just melts into his chair, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“ _Like, oh my gahd, Calum, Michael’s so much prettier than the Mona Lisa, have you seen him?”_ Ashton’s laughing too hard to keep going, barely keeping a hold on his bottle as he curls into himself, tears glistening in the firelight. He’s gasping for breath as he splutters, “ _He’s—more like, I dunno, fucking—Michaelangelo—”_

Luke is more than eighty five per cent sure that Calum and Ashton had more than three beers each before he and Michael came down to join them. He snorts.

“My dick is longer than _David_ ’s,” Michael announces, grinning at their friends, “Like, totally longer, right Luke?”

He holds up his hands, licking his lips and flashing a saccharine-sweet smile at his boyfriend. “Dunno, never slept with David.”

Calum and Ashton are in stitches, choking and trying to breath as waves of laughter crash over them, sending them into fits.

“Well…my dick is better.” Michael states.

“ _Why_ —” Calum groans, shoulders shaking as giggles tumble out of him, “ _Why are you compa—ring your dick to a—statue?”_

Luke loses it at that, rolling forward to hide his face in the blanket draped over his knees as he laughs.

“Your dick is a statue,” Michael retorts, but he’s grinning, eyes gleaming a dark green like pine trees and a sure smile on his mouth, joyful like summer sunshine.

Ashton moans eventually, holding his stomach having abandoned his beer to the ground. “Stop, please, I can’t fucking laugh anymore.”

“Weak,” Calum huffs breathless from his chair, sounding just as pained, “So weak.”

He gets a cushion in the face. Luke falls off his chair laughing and bruises his tailbone on the stone tiles. He crawls on his knees to Michael’s chair, rolling his shoulders back and leaning back between Michael’s legs, pressing his cheek to his knee.

Fingers sink into his hair and Luke smiles, letting his head drop back so he can look up, upside down, at Michael.

“I love you,” he says quietly.

Michael grins, tugging at Luke’s hair, and Luke can see what he’s always seen in Michael’s eyes. His world.

“I love you too.”

“Asht—”

“No Calum, I do not love you that much.”

“But—”

“If you stop asking me to kiss you, I’ll give you a cuddle.”

There’s yelp of joy and the sound of a chair knocking over and Luke look away from Michael just in time to see Calum leaping into Ashton’s lap, curling himself into a squishy ball of crinkly smiles and tucking his head under Ashton’s chin with a satisfied grin.

Ashton, despite his words, smiles down at the boy—man, really, they all are, but they would always be boys to each other—in his arms and hugs him close.

“Liar,” Michael says from above Luke.

“Shut up, Mike,” Ashton says without looking up.

Luke giggles, leaning his head on Michael’s knee, as Calum opens his eyes and shoots a wink at him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope it wasn't entirely awful haha XD 
> 
> Please please please please leave a comment if you did or didn't like it, I live for comments XD thank you so much! 
> 
> My tumblr is aneverendingreplay ^_^ Come say hi!


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